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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28739628">Holding Out For An Iero</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/synonomy/pseuds/synonomy'>synonomy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Bandom, My Chemical Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings, Porn With Plot, Sex, Tattoos, Teasing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2010-11-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2010-11-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:28:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,315</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28739628</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/synonomy/pseuds/synonomy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Frank gets his chestpiece, he doesn't have sex for a week.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Frank Iero/Gerard Way</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>58</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Holding Out For An Iero</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrankIero/gifts">FrankIero</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Frank gets his chestpiece, he doesn't have sex for a week.</p><p>Which, okay, it's not like that's the longest he's ever gone without sex. Not by a <em>very</em> long shot. But this time, he doesn't even have a good excuse. He's not an awkward fumbling teenager anymore; he's in <em>My Chemical Romance,</em> and his band is awesome. They've won, like, awards and shit. </p><p>Not that that really matters, of course. But it's the principle, or whatever. And even if it did matter, it's not like he has to (or wants to, that shit is scummy as hell) call upon his status to get himself laid. Because he's got Gerard. Hell, he's got Gerard <em>officially</em> now, six whole months of publicly declared relationship under their belts. And Gerard, being in Frank's band himself, couldn't care less about Frank's stardom.</p><p>One thing he does care about, though, is Frank. And while, in theory, this would seem like a pretty awesome thing, it also has its problems. Namely, the fact that Gerard, awesome as he is, is also a total freak when it comes to caring. Gerard caring means Gerard <em>worrying. </em>Which, yeah, is nice sometimes. At the right moments; in hospital waiting rooms after Frank gets a little too enthusiastic on stage, or when he's curled up in his bunk feeling lousy and homesick and generally fucking miserable, but other times? Not so much.</p><p>It's definitely not the side of Gerard he wants when his cock is in Gerard's mouth, put it that way. Especially since Frank hadn't even done anything to warrant it. Like, of course he's going to wince, just a little, when he moves and the freshly inked skin shifts and pulls. Because it's sore and tender the first few days and, as Frank had quickly learned, completely impossible to lay still and immobile while Gerard is sucking you off, okay.</p><p>That in itself should have been a satisfactory enough excuse for Gerard, because Frank defies anyone in their right mind to turn down a blowjob from Gerard Way, even if they're bleeding out of their fucking <em>ears.</em> But, unfortunately, Gerard didn't seem to think it was.</p><p>"Look, stop being a horny idiot and just wait, okay?" Gerard says exasperatedly, not looking up from where he's hunched over his sketchpad at the tiny kitchenette table. "I mean, you've only just started on the cream, at least let the first layer of new skin heal over first--"</p><p>"Ge<em>raaaard,"</em> Frank moans indulgently at the ceiling. He's laying shirtless on his back on the bus couch because a) his shirt is irritating and b) he knows it will help his case.</p><p>Or at least, it usually would. But for some weird reason that can only have been reached by Gerard's special brand of logic, Gerard seems unusually determined to maintain his resolve. He doesn't look up even when Frank throws himself to his feet and thrusts his hips under Gerard's nose.</p><p>"Look!" Frank demands, jabbing his finger almost violently towards his chest, where the cream is clearly starting to do its work, skin already peeling nicely. "It <em>has</em> healed over. Like, yeah, I could maybe understand the first time--" (although, for the record, that was totally Gerard's fault; fucking jumping him about half an hour after the wrap came off, what did he expect?) "--but you haven't touched me for <em>three days,</em> Gerard. I thought we were supposed to be in a committed, loving relationship now, or something?"</p><p>"We are," Gerard says, his pencil skritch-skritching over the paper. He looks up for a second and Frank shimmies hopefully, but Gerard's eyes stay firmly on his own hands as they calmly retrieve the coffee Frank had moved across the table when he wasn't looking.</p><p>"Pfft." Frank huffs and falls back on his heels, grumpily folding his arms-- over his stomach, after a suppressed flinch when he accidentally touches his chest that he really hopes Gerard didn't see. "I don't know whose loving you're committed to, but it's certainly not mine. What happened to <em>for better or worse,</em> motherfucker? You can't just abandon me at the first sign of peeling skin! What sort of wife are you?"</p><p>"We're not married, Frankie," Gerard mutters, slouching down on his arm until his pointy nose is almost touching the paper, fist working rapidly. "And I'm not abandoning you, I'm being <em>considerate.</em> Putting your health above my own desires. Being respectful, y'know? That tends to be part of the whole <em>loving relationship</em> thing."</p><p>Frank bites back the <em>well damn, maybe we should've just stuck to sneaky backstage handjobs</em> because he totally doesn't mean it and it will sound like he doesn't, too.</p><p>He tries a different tack, "Okay, sure, but why can't we just be careful? It's not like either of us have a fetish for jizzing in open wounds or anything, unless there's something you're not telling me."</p><p>Gerard sniffs distastefully. "You are seriously so fucking gross sometimes."</p><p>It's so many kinds of ironic Frank can't even <em>do</em> anything but throw up his hands and make incredulous, offended noises until Gerard takes his things and retreats to his bunk, ignoring Frank's whining yell of, "But baby, I have <em>neeeeeds!"</em></p><p>Gerard doesn't let up the next day either. Or the next. And then suddenly the weekend is rolling around and Frank has almost resigned himself to the fact his balls are going to slowly and painfully turn some deeply unattractive shade of blue Gerard would probably know the name of. </p><p>For a while he'd vaguely entertained the idea that Gerard was doing it on purpose, just to torture him; hell, maybe this was his way of getting his own back on Frank for accidentally smearing come all over his favorite issue of <em>Doom Patrol</em> that time. But then the past few days he's started catching Gerard staring at him with rapidly increasing frequency, and no, okay, it's just Gerard.</p><p>Gerard Way: the only guy in the world who gives up sex for a week out of irrational concern for a goddamn tattoo.</p><p>And there's only so much Frank can take. Seven long, painful days of celibacy when Gerard is <em>right there</em> is already pushing it, but the staring? That's where Frank draws the line. He can't hold out when Gerard looks at him like that, no fucking way.</p><p>He goes to find Brian. By the end of the day, it's arranged that he and Gerard are rooming together next hotel night. Which, by the way, isn't for another <em>three whole days.</em> By the time it's finally arrived and Frank's taken an actual shower with actual hot water and actual soap, he's very nearly at the point of saying <em>fuck it</em> to the plan he has, tackling Gerard to the floor butt-naked and humping the shit out of him, instead.</p><p>But, no. If Gerard can subject him to days and days of maddening sexual frustration, the least Frank can do is tease him a little. Really, it's the least the prissy asshole deserves.</p><p>Speaking of which, it sounds like said asshole just got back from Ray and Mikey's room. Frank can hear him shuffling about on the other side of the bathroom door, the creak of bed springs followed by two heavy thumps Frank would recognize anywhere as Gerard's stupid boots hitting the floor. The TV starts up a few seconds later, low and rumbling.</p><p>Frank towels his hair briefly, just enough so he's not dripping everywhere, and then carefully pats his chest dry. He's onto the regular lotion now, the last of the flaking skin finally starting to wash away, revealing fresh, slightly tender skin and the bold, gradually darkening lines of his ink. </p><p>Frank grins at himself in the mirror as he rubs the lotion in slowly, before rinsing his hands and turning his attention to the towel rail. He selects the smallest, most inappropriate one there to wrap around his hips; the two ends don't even overlap, it's so tiny. When Frank gets the top two corners clutched precariously in his hand there's a good inch of gap, revealing damp, bare skin from his hip all the way down his thigh, dangerously close to his crotch.</p><p>Perfect.</p><p>When he exits the bathroom, Gerard's sat cross-legged on his bed, bent over his sketchpad with the TV turned down low. He doesn't look up as Frank passes, only offers a distracted <em>hey</em> from under the curtain of messy, slightly greasy black hair.</p><p>"Hey," Frank returns mildly. He stops by his suitcase, open atop the dresser next to his own bed. "What're you watching?"</p><p>"...<em>Hm?</em> Oh, I'm not, really. Just those weird hotel commercials, y'know? You can change it if you want, but there's a documentary on later--" </p><p>Gerard looks up, and his words trail off. His eyes widen almost comically as he takes Frank in, gaze raking over his bare body, lingering on the place where the towel splits. His mouth is still open.</p><p>Frank pretends not to notice. "Yeah? That's cool. Shower's free, by the way." He turns to his suitcase, back to Gerard, and drops the towel, letting it puddle around his feet.</p><p>Gerard makes a noise like he tried to inhale and swallow at the same time. Frank sniggers at his clean clothes, pretending to be looking for something, casually holding up items for inspection. He can feel Gerard's eyes on his ass as he sways a little, cocking his weight into one hip then the other, playing at being obliviously engrossed in what he's doing. He takes his time pulling on a pair of underwear, bending over ever-so-slowly and fingering the waistband when he straightens up, arranging them low on his hips.</p><p>When he finally turns around, Gerard's still in the same position; lips parted, face flushed, hand immobile against the paper. He seems to realize what he's doing though, and snaps his eyes back down, cheeks coloring further.</p><p>Frank doesn't smirk like a smug motherfucker, but it's a close thing. He gives it a moment, waits for Gerard to remember he's supposed to be absorbed in his drawing. When Gerard's hand tentatively starts moving again, Frank sinks down onto the bed and presses up against Gerard's side, careful to keep his chest clear of pressure. The last thing he wants is to draw Gerard's attention to it now.</p><p>Gerard jumps, face jerking to the side to stare at Frank with surprised, apprehensive eyes. Frank remains innocent, rests his chin on Gerard's shoulder. He nods towards the sketchbook. "What're you drawing?"</p><p>It looks like some sort of mutated zombie feasting on the brains of a decapitated head. It's pretty gruesome, even by Gerard's standards. Frank whistles appreciatively. His fingers creep up the back of Gerard's neck as he pretends to study it, playing at casual, thumb brushing idly against stray strands of hair.</p><p>Gerard's breath hitches. "Um. It's." He coughs, turning back to the paper. "Well, it was meant to be, like, a guy. But the head came out wrong, so I just, um. Left it as a head. And that didn't really make sense on its own, so I figured, yeah, zombie." He laughs nervously. "Can't go wrong with zombies."</p><p>Frank hums lowly, turning his face into Gerard's neck and breathing out slow and hot through his mouth. "Frank," Gerard says, tone edging on warning.</p><p>Frank has to give in to the smirk, then. He can feel the tension in Gerard's body, spine held rigid and arm stiff where Frank's pressed up against it. He wonders how painful the boner Gerard's desperately trying (and failing) to hide under that sketchpad is, trapped inside still show-damp jeans. He hopes it's a lot, the fucker.</p><p>Frank pulls away and Gerard lets out a slow, relieved breath, but Frank is far from done. In one quick, fluid move he flops onto his back, draping his legs over the side of the bed to rest his feet on the floor. The fact he actually is pretty exhausted helps with the big show he makes of yawning, stretching his arms up and arching against the mattress, groaning deliberately low and throaty. </p><p>Gerard bites his lip at that. Frank can see him fighting to keep his focus on the paper, except he can't seem to stop his eyes from darting to the side, at Frank's body where it's stretched out next to him. </p><p>When Frank reaches down to <em>adjust</em> himself, hips pushing up off the bed, Gerard finally breaks with a frustrated sigh. "Frank, come on."</p><p>"What?" Frank asks innocently, rolling onto his stomach and propping his head in his hands. His wet hair sticks to his neck and shoulders as he looks up at Gerard from under raised eyebrows.</p><p>Gerard looks back down at him stonily, eyes dark. "You know what."</p><p>Frank bites back his grin. "No? Can't say I do, Geezy." He yawns again, arms sliding forward and forehead dropping to the bed, arching his back slow and sharp, "Maaaan, I am wiped <em>out."</em></p><p>"Oh, fuck off," Gerard says, voice tight and annoyed. He throws his sketchpad onto the floor and stands up, making for the bathroom. "M'gonna shower."</p><p>Frank's up and off the bed in a second, grabbing Gerard's arm before he can reach the door and shoving him up against the wall. "Fuck no, this ends now, do you hear me?" He gets in Gerard's face, spits out words in a desperate rush, "I've had enough of your fussy mothering <em>bullshit,</em> Gerard. My chest is <em>fine,</em> okay-- I want your cock in my ass and I want it <em>now."</em></p><p>To his credit, Gerard doesn't try to protest. Hell, it doesn't look like he's even breathing, staring at Frank with his mouth hanging open. Frank goes for his neck, closing his mouth around pale flesh and sucking hard, and that seems to snap Gerard back to reality; exhaling harshly, head tipping back against the wall. "<em>Ah--</em> okay!" His hands dart up to clutch at Frank's hips. "<em>Okay,</em> Frank, shit."</p><p>"Yeah," Frank breathes, satisfied and excited and really fucking turned on, before kissing Gerard rough and sloppy. He's already hard against Gerard's hip, just being this close to him again, from having Gerard's mouth against his. Fuck, six months later and Frank still can't get enough. He can't stop himself from grinding forwards, pressing his thigh up against Gerard's crotch and groaning under his breath at the feel of him hard and straining in his jeans.</p><p>"Fuck, Frankie," Gerard pants, and yeah, Frank's really fucking missed this. The urgency of stripping down, the frenzied heat of skin-on-skin, the frantic search for supplies; and then the sharp, sweet burn of Gerard's fingers opening him up, getting him ready, so he can take Gerard's cock.</p><p>It's enough to make Frank keen, high and thin, clenching around the fingers in his ass and hearing Gerard's breath catch. He's got Frank flat on his back on Gerard's bed, legs splayed wide and pushed back, knees bent almost to his ears. Frank loves it like this more than any other way, always has. Folded up and held down, completely open for Gerard's hungry eyes.</p><p>The fingers twist, bump against his prostate and Frank's cursing to the ceiling, biting hard into the inside of his cheek. Fuck, he's right on the edge already, cock leaking against his stomach. He can barely even look at Gerard's stupid face; can't watch him bite his lip with those tiny fucking teeth, or stare into his eyes, dilated almost black with how turned on he is.</p><p>"Shit," Frank swears, pulling at Gerard's hair where he's twisted his fingers. "Gee, baby, now, okay? I can't, you have to--"</p><p>"Yeah, 'kay, fuck," Gerard answers breathlessly. His fingers slide out and Frank's empty, so empty, breathing hard as he watches Gerard fumble with the condom, roll it down over himself.</p><p>And then Gerard just... stops. His eyes are on Frank's chest, corner of his mouth twitching with the beginnings of a frown, and no. Frank cannot go through this again.</p><p>"Don't you fucking dare," he breathes dangerously, fisting a handful of Gerard's hair when he opens his mouth, yanking his face close. "No, seriously. If you stop <em>now,</em> I'm gonna shave your head in your sleep. Shave it, paint it green, take pictures and put them on the internet. And <em>then</em> I'm gonna kill you."</p><p>Gerard actually pouts. "I'm just worried, okay? It may have stopped peeling but it's still <em>sore,</em> and this position isn't-- I mean." He cuts himself off suddenly, cheeks flushing a little. And oh, wow, suddenly something clicks in Frank's brain.</p><p>Frank blinks. "Is that. Wait, that's all? I could have just." Frank stares at Gerard incredulously as the realization sinks in. "Are you telling me, all this time, I could've just got you to do me from behind?"</p><p>Gerard does the frowny-face, the one that means the <em>Caring Freakazoid</em> is coming out to play. "No, but you don't. You don't like it, though! You know, having your, um. Back to me. I didn't want to make you feel degraded, or like I don't respect you or something--"</p><p>"Gerard," Frank says fondly, exasperatedly. There's a lot of things he could say right now. Like how it's not that he finds it degrading, he just loves being able to see Gerard's face while he's fucking him. Or that, putting aside the fact he thought Gerard was saying <em>no, period,</em> he'd never kick Gerard out of bed for <em>asking,</em> what the fuck. Trust Gerard to draw the worst conclusion possible from Frank saying he prefers this position. That conversation was months ago too, right after they officially got together. Frank's surprised he even remembers.</p><p>But the urge to call Gerard an idiot and smack him upside the head is being drowned out by the lovey-dovey, totally sappy feeling in his chest, so in the end all Frank says is, "Do you wanna fuck me, or not?"</p><p>For a moment Gerard looks confused, like he's trying to figure out if it's a trick question. Then it clears, morphing into a small, lopsided smile that only serves to accentuate the sappy feeling. "So... it's okay? You're--"</p><p>"Perfectly down with doggy-style, yes, Gerard," Frank says, smirking. "Now move your dumb ass."</p><p>"Asshole," Gerard says, still smiling, backing off and letting Frank untangle his legs from around his waist. </p><p>Frank's chest does twinge a little when he twists himself over onto his hands and knees, skin pulling taut. But that's probably just because of the sweat that's broken out over his body, over-sensitizing him to the cool air. It quickly evaporates from his mind as Gerard moves up behind him to cover his back, giving way to the arousal that floods back as he peppers kisses over Frank's shoulders and nape of his neck.</p><p>It's amazing how Gerard can just <em>do</em> that, get Frank from zero to boiling point in no time at all.</p><p>"Yeah?" Gerard murmurs behind Frank's ear. And amongst the seduction there's a genuine question, like he has to make absolutely sure, hands sliding down Frank's sides and over his ass.</p><p>"Fuck yeah," Frank manages, throat suddenly dry. </p><p>He pushes back into Gerard's touch, and apparently that's assurance enough because Frank hears the click of the lube, Gerard's quiet, impatient swearing as he hastily slicks himself up. This is the bit Frank both hates and simultaneously loves; the waiting, heart pounding in his ears and breath growing heavy with anticipation, time dragging on for what seems like forever--</p><p>Before Gerard's wide, strong palms are engulfing Frank's hips and he's pushing in, pulling Frank back into it, slowly spreading him open. Frank exhales shakily, willing himself to relax because Christ, Gerard feels fucking <em>huge.</em> Which is utterly ridiculous, because as long and torturous as the week has felt, it has still only been a <em>week.</em> Yet Frank feels stretched to the absolute limit, so fucking full and so fucking <em>good</em> it borders on painful. </p><p>He's panting towards the bed, hair sticking to his face as he pushes back by instinct, taking Gerard to the hilt and relishing that familiar hitch of breath in response, the fingers around his hips tightening and digging in just the way Frank likes. "Oh god," he groans, his own hands fisting tight in the sheets. Jesus, he's missed this. "Don't you dare hold out on me <em>ever</em> again, fuck."</p><p>"Yeah, no," Gerard says, voice breaking on a choked moan when Frank clenches around him. Just to feel it, feel what he's been missing. "Fuck, babe, not gonna last--"</p><p>"S'okay," Frank says, because yeah, he gets that. "S'okay, just. Fuck me, Gee, come on." He can't even wince at how desperate he sounds, too fucking <em>gone</em> to give a damn.</p><p>"Yeah, yeah." Gerard pulls back slowly, slow enough for Frank to feel every inch of the drag inside him, overwhelming and incredible. He's already shaking with it, arms threatening to give out. "God, you're so fucking <em>tight,</em> I can't--"</p><p>"Your fault," Frank grits out, but he's not laughing. As Gerard presses back in just as slowly, using his hands to dimple Frank's hips into that sharp, sweet angle that gets him inside just right (the one Gerard had quickly learnt how to hit every time, whatever position they were in) Frank finally loses the battle to support himself and drops down onto forearms, his chest brushing against the sheets.</p><p>It doesn't hurt, not really, but Frank hisses anyway, tense and oversensitive. Gerard fucking stops <em>again,</em> pauses with his hips flush against Frank's ass. Frank hastily shakes his head, "No, no, s'fine, don't <em>stop,</em> fuck."</p><p>"Frank," Gerard says, and he's breathing hard but Frank still <em>hears it.</em></p><p>"No, fuck you, <em>no,"</em> Frank gasps, but Gerard's pulling back, pulling <em>out,</em> and there aren't any words to describe what Frank feels then. </p><p>But Gerard doesn't go far. The next thing Frank knows he's being hauled upright onto his knees and his head is being pulled back for a fiery kiss. And Frank's so frantic, so wrung-out and helplessly turned on he just fucking goes with it, throws an arm back behind himself to clutch at Gerard's shoulders, making desperate noises into his mouth. Half-formed pleads for him to do something, <em>anything.</em></p><p>"Shhh, hang on, s'alright." Gerard's voice is completely wrecked, thick with arousal. He's got one steadying arm tight around Frank's stomach, carefully clear of his chest, the other cupping Frank's throat gently. "You're gonna stay up on your knees, okay, baby? Give your chest room to breathe. Lean against the wall for me."</p><p>Frank nods mindlessly, letting Gerard shuffle them forwards until he can brace his forearms against the wall. Gerard doesn't make him wait after that, just palms Frank's ass, spreads him open and slides back inside with one firm, deep push.</p><p>Frank inhales fast and thick, exhales slow and shaky as Gerard starts to finally fuck him, steady in-out strokes with his mouth pressed open and wet against the back of Frank's neck, breath hard and choppy under Frank's ear. His hands slide over Frank's hips and up his sides, fingertips touching lightly, barely at Frank's nipples.</p><p>Frank swears, wishing they didn't have to be careful. Wishing Gerard could clamp down and twist, scrape his bitten-down nails over Frank's ribs. Frank fucking loves his ink; getting inked, wearing his ink, but right now he's really not loving the practicality of it, wishes he could go from the chair straight to smooth, perfect color with no annoying bits in between.</p><p>"More," Frank says hoarsely, arching his hips back onto Gerard's cock; satisfying stretch in his arms and shoulders, body pulled taut and dick straining up against his belly. "<em>More,</em> fuck. Harder."</p><p>"God, you," Gerard moans, and yeah, Frank wants to see Gerard's face right now, but he can't pretend this isn't doing it for him; his stomach swoops when Gerard's hips kick up the pace, slamming into him harder, faster.</p><p>They haven't done it like this since the first few fumbling times, since before that conversation. The one Frank can barely remember but Gerard apparently knows like the back of his hand, since he's also been laboring under that extremely stupid misapprehension all this time... god, so many things make sense, now.</p><p>Frank doesn't even have words for how Gerard makes him feel, sometimes. He hangs his head between his biceps and breathes through it, squeezing his eyes shut against the overwhelming flood of heat rising up through his belly and chest.</p><p>When the edge finally backs off a little Frank realizes Gerard's talking, rambling low and overwrought between pants, "Frankie, god, so good, look so fucking <em>good</em> bent over for me like this, so hot just taking it, fuck, <em>wanting</em> it so much--"</p><p>"Fuck," Frank gasps, shoving himself back almost involuntarily, so Gerard's hips smack hard against his ass. "Yeah, want it, Gee, want it so fucking <em>bad,</em> god, <em>please--</em>"</p><p>His words choke off when Gerard swears and yanks his head back, fingers tight in Frank's hair and teeth sharp against the side of Frank's throat. "Keep talking," he says breathlessly in Frank's ear. "Fuck, Frankie, keep-- ask me, god, <em>beg</em> me--" and Frank's wheezing his <em>please, please</em> at the ceiling, clenching his knuckles against the plaster to distract from the helpless clenching of his body as the edge suddenly looms back twice as intense. </p><p>God, Gerard never. He's not <em>gentle,</em> he's the opposite of gentle and all its synonyms in relation to sex, but he doesn't do <em>this.</em> His filthy mouth has only ever extended as far as narration and endearments, never--</p><p>"I want, god, wanna see you all tied up, wanna--" Frank moans and drops his head back down as Gerard grabs his hips, rhythmically yanking Frank back against his cock until the sound of their skin slapping together jars out loud and pornographic in the room. "Wanna tie you up and fuck you until you can't-- <em>ah,</em> can't even stand it, until you fucking come all over yourself, wouldn't even--" Gerard chokes out a groan that matches Frank's, hips stuttering, "wouldn't even have to touch you, just get you off on my cock 'cause-- oh <em>god,</em> Frankie--"</p><p>"What, please, <em>what,"</em> Frank pants desperately, because he has to know, needs to know--</p><p>"'Cause you're," Gerard's breath is hitching on every thrust, rhythm faltering, sweaty forehead sliding against Frank's shoulder, "'cause you're fucking <em>mine,</em> and you don't-- I can't--" He's sliding a hand down to close around Frank's cock before Frank can even process his words; it's too much at once, too much sensation, too much of everything, and Frank comes with a noise like it's been ripped out of him, barely a second after Gerard touched him, all over Gerard's fingers and the hotel headboard.</p><p>Through the white noise in his ears and brain he registers Gerard rutting up against him, his voice a low, gorgeous constant in Frank's ear as he comes, pulsing inside and making Frank whine, thighs shaking and forearms slipping on the wall.</p><p>Frank's shaky and wrung-out after, like he only ever is when it was <em>really</em> good. His head is spinning as they slouch against the wall, breathing hard. When Gerard finally makes a mumbly noise and goes to pull back it feels like he's pulling Frank apart with him as he goes, drawing all the marrow from his bones until he's just a pile of nerve endings and limp muscle and thudding heart.</p><p>Frank crumbles into the mattress as soon as Gerard moves away, sprawling out on his side and burying his face in Gerard's pillow. God, he feels good. He can barely feel his <em>toes.</em> He feels Gerard get up, hears the soft drop of the condom in the garbage can, and when the mattress dips again it does so tentatively, maybe because it's a single bed or maybe for some other stupid Gerard reason.</p><p>"Stop flirting and get in here," Frank mumbles contentedly.</p><p>There's a pause, and then, "Your fucking come's all over the headboard," but Gerard gets his other knee up on the bed, sliding next to Frank until Frank can feel the heat of his leg all the way down his back. Frank grins to himself (because fuck yeah, it is) and turns to look over his shoulder. Gerard's leaning carefully forwards, slouched in that god-awful posture of his, skin flushed and hair stuck up everywhere. Staring, blank-eyed, somewhere between the floor and Frank's ass.</p><p><em>'Cause you're fucking mine,</em> he'd said. Frank's chest does the sappy fluttery-thing again, and he stutters through a snigger, turning back into his pillow. He enjoys the silence while he can, starting to wind down slowly, waiting for Gerard to speak.</p><p>"So," Gerard eventually says, far too casually, and Frank can't help but snort out laughing, loose-limbed and lolling on his back as he gasps at the ceiling. "What!" Gerard sounds mostly amused, but the hint of plaintiveness doesn't escape Frank either. He quickly rolls over to press against Gerard's side, careful to give his chest a little space to air out. "Fuck," Gerard huffs a breath. "Do you want a smoke?"</p><p>"No. Well, yes, but come on," Frank says, still sniggering a little into the soft muscle of Gerard's bicep, but he strokes a hand reassuringly over Gerard's collarbone anyway. "What is it?"</p><p>"Nothing," Gerard says. Flails when Frank pinches his nipple, laugh-squawking and slapping Frank's hand away. "Fuck, okay! I just." He hesitates, but it's an <em>I'm-thinking-of-how-to-phrase-this</em> hesitance, not an <em>I'm-uncomfortable-and-really-don't-want-to-say-this</em> hesitance. Frank can tell by the dense, steadily evening out thrums of Gerard's heartbeat under his cheek. "I don't know, was that o--"</p><p>"Yes," Frank says immediately, and then, "Shut up," blowing a raspberry against Gerard's neck. "I already said it's all good. Fuck, more than good, did I look like I was complaining? You're just worried because you liked making me beg a little <em>too</em> much, and that fucks with your whole mantra of-- what was it? <em>Considerate and respectful."</em> </p><p>He fingerquotes them half-heartedly before poking Gerard playfully in the ribs, digging in where he knows Gerard's ticklish, but Gerard just grabs Frank's hand and holds it.</p><p>Frank falls still, breathing out slowly, and when Gerard doesn't say anything he rolls his eyes, pulling back so he can look at him. "Gee."</p><p>Gerard looks back at him. Not quite guiltily, not anything Frank could smack him for, but apprehensively, mouth dimpling a little at the corner. Frank sighs, rolling his eyes again. "Look, you're thinking too hard about it. It doesn't have to mean anything about you, you know? You're you. You could do anything to me and I wouldn't find it degrading, because it couldn't be, with you. Okay?"</p><p>Gerard keeps looking at him for a long moment. Frank can't help but grin with relief when finally the tension ebbs away and Gerard sighs, smiling slowly. "Okay."</p><p>"Excellent," Frank says cheerfully. He squeezes Gerard's hand once before scrambling up onto his knees, arching his back obnoxiously as he stretches over Gerard's lap, groping around for Gerard's jeans to retrieve his cigarettes.</p><p>Gerard slaps him on the ass and then lets his hand linger, fingertips stroking lightly over the damp skin, dipping just barely between his cheeks. Frank immediately stills, a shiver working its way through his body. He can practically hear Gerard's smirk when he says, "So. Anything, huh?"</p><p>Frank grins through the thick breath he lets out. "As long as you promise never to not fuck me for a week when I get an inconveniently located tattoo because you're worried about my delicate virtue ever again."</p><p>"Fuck. Do I have to repeat that? A bit much when I'm both post-coital and pre-cigarette," Gerard says, hand stroking up Frank's spine until he's pulling Frank's face towards him, teeth bared and eyes bright. </p><p>Frank considers it briefly, but then Gerard tugs him forwards for a kiss. "Nah," he murmurs against Gerard's mouth, shifting until he can roll under the covers and pull Gerard in with him. "This'll do."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have no tattoos myself, so apologies for any inaccuracies or mistakes I may have made i.e. post-tattoo care.</p></blockquote><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
  <ul>
    <li>
        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28800372">[podfic of] Holding Out For a Lero, by synonomy</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOneCalledEli/pseuds/TheOneCalledEli">TheOneCalledEli</a>
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